


the outtakes

by bluebeholder



Series: the accidental epic [51]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: F/F, M/M, Outtakes, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 07:24:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17862923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebeholder/pseuds/bluebeholder
Summary: Some things that didn't make it into the accidental epic, but are worth preserving all the same!Enjoy.





	the outtakes

**Author's Note:**

> This is officially the last work in the series, and is really just for fun. There are six things in here: Grindelwald's master plan, three short stories that didn't make it into the main series proper but are canon all the same, a detail from the original draft of "until the day's end," and, finally, the original First Time scene (which is rated M). 
> 
> Have fun!
> 
> And don't crucify me for that first time scene.

** The Master Plan (As Far As We Know) **

So I tried to write a Magnificent Bastard with Grindelwald. I wanted to make him the dark messiah that JKR really…seems to have fallen down on. I drew on every goddamn thing I know how to use, from the methods of real live fascists to the schemes of Voldemort to obsessive reading of the TV Tropes “So You Want To Write A Magnificent Bastard” page. I’m not entirely sure I succeeded, but I figured it was worth a look back through this series from Grindelwald’s point of view, observing his plans, goals, and moves through the series. Obviously I can’t hit every single story beat—there was a lot going on behind the scenes, like the near attack on the Assembly of the International Confederation of Wizards that Seraphina mentions in “until the day’s end”—but these, I think, are the big ones.

The plan begins long before FB1 came out. There was clearly intent to fracture and use terrorist tactics to scare people, sowing dissent and argument among states to keep anyone from making a firm plan of attack. See: the opening newspaper roll of FB1.

Enter the Obscurus. It wasn’t intentional (he may have had a vision, but the child was inaccurate—or, well, the vision left out Credence) but here, Grindelwald takes the form of Percival Graves in order to find the child. This also puts him in a position of authority in the American government where he can wreak all kinds of havoc. According to the Accidental Epic, this is also when he plants Abernathy in MACUSA to act as a spy and, as we discover in the official FB2, he REALLY DID PLANT ABERNATHY THERE. He also gets hold of Newt’s first Obscurial, separated from its host, which he will later use to begin studying how to actually use the Obscurus as an independent weapon.

His plan “fails” in the film, but this is where the Accidental Epic comes in.

Graves and Credence meet, which no one particularly intended. But here they are, and it gives Grindelwald’s last plants in MACUSA the chance to try to reclaim the weapon. Credence does escape, but that’s of no consequence to Grindelwald: after seeing the destructive power of the Obscurus, he’s already working on creating his own tailor-made weapons.

Additionally, Credence’s escape paves the way for Rovius Grimsditch—a hard-line isolationist and populist candidate—to take the presidency in 1928. As far as Grindelwald is concerned, this is an unintentional but very clear victory. Grimsditch makes his work a lot easier.

During the interim period between “a better mirror” and “until the day’s end”, we know he does several things.

  1. Deliberately sows dissent in the ICW by using guerrilla warfare and terrorist tactics in America and European states, where most wizarding power and ICW influence concentrates.
  2. Preys on anti-imperialist sentiment in states in South America, Africa, and Asia, making promises that in the new regime all wizarding states will find an equal voice—promises that the ICW is not making.
  3. Collects his influence and begins to build his army from zealous young witches and wizards—in England, especially from the Sacred Twenty-Eight.



Here’s where Dumbledore also enters the plot. In England, Dumbledore contributes by publicly presenting himself as an opponent of Grindelwald—while also opening doors to let Grindelwald recruit from Hogwarts students and keeping tabs on busybodies like Theseus and Sebastian Longbottom. He can also present himself as a moderate in the ICW, being a “voice of reason” and moderating discussions in such a way that absolutely nothing gets done.

Dumbledore is also participating in Grindelwald’s Obscurus research, and the creation of the weapon.

As a trusted figure, the only person who really questions his authority is Jacob.

Most critically, we know that Grindelwald makes contact with Queenie and brings her on board as a spy. While some of this was indeed an attempt to get her to defect, and to keep an eye on someone so powerful, it had a bonus effect. It’s not hard to guess that, in such a tight-knit group, Queenie would call Credence to England to inform him of what happened.

There, Dumbledore was able to contact him. He was also able to collect all the information necessary to get Credence’s name cleared, and have him declared safe to be among people. This sets Credence up for an eventual relocation to England.

By this time, losing Queenie is a small blow, but Grindelwald has done what he needs. He also has confirmed solidly for her—on accident, but it’s a beneficial one—that the reason he wanted her was to keep tabs on Dumbledore. Dumbledore is now cleared of all major suspicion by the people who could actually throw a wrench in the works, and can continue his activities.

Once Credence is in England, Dumbledore further encourages the plot by driving Credence away from Hogsmeade and planting the seed of getting him to Godric’s Hollow.

Here, Grindelwald cast his time-delayed Imperius Charm on his aunt, Bathilda Bagshot. When Graves leaves Credence alone to go to London, she sends Grindelwald’s owl to deliver a letter intended to open communication with Credence and cause Credence to mistrust all authority. By setting him adrift, Grindelwald hopes to destabilize him.

At the same time, his plans move forward with an attack on Rome courtesy of his new Obscurial weapon. He is aware that no one will suspect the nature of the weapon, and that they will assume Credence is responsible.

Additionally, he sends Dementors after the party. The Dementors could cause major trouble for them—injuring or killing allies—and it’s a safe bet they’ll force a change. Credence’s success in restraining himself will end up being a major factor in his testimony, so Grindelwald gets a win here despite not doing any actual damage.

At this point, there are two major courses:

  1. Dumbledore clears Credence’s name. As a result, the ICW will not pass a resolution of action against Grindelwald, because appeasement-oriented countries—like America as headed by Rovius Grimsditch—will hold Credence’s redemption up as an alternative method of Obscurus control.
  2. Dumbledore doesn’t succeed in clearing Credence’s name, the ICW attempts to arrest him, and Credence will go on the run, which leaves him open to Grindelwald’s influence.



In either case, Credence will go looking for the Obscurial. He’s predictable: that’s his personality, and Grindelwald knows it.

Modesty is therefore a decoy. Yes, she is an Obscurus, and therefore highly valuable to Grindelwald, but she is not his weapon. Credence will be distracted in hunting for her and then more so when he finds his sister, which puts Grindelwald in position to continue his machinations.

Unfortunately for him, the good guys were planning too—and this is when they make their move.

 

 

** “the boggart”: ** _Takes place during Credence’s first visit to England. Couldn’t find a good spot to keep it without having to reorder the whole series._

 

“Now,” Dumbledore says, from somewhere behind Credence, “concentrate. You will need the greatest control for this.”

Credence closes his eyes and forces himself into serenity. Anyone would be nervous right now, but he–he needs calm even more! The Obscurus hasn’t quit whispering to him since he stepped into this great stone room, hundreds of feet below London, meant to contain his energy should he snap under pressure.

“The chest in front of you will open in a moment, and the boggart inside will emerge,” Dumbledore continues. His voice is downright soothing, really, pleasant and calm and kind. “You recall the incantation?”

“Riddikulus,” Credence murmurs. His wand feels firm and heavy and secure in his hand. He doesn’t use it much at home, except for finer magic: having learned to cast entirely by hand, and living with a man who’s an expert at wandless magic, wands don’t come naturally. But proving to Dumbledore that he’s safe absolutely requires that he prove proficiency with a wand.

“Yes,” Dumbledore says. “If you can banish the boggart–that is, face your greatest fear and overcome it–without losing control, it will be a sound mark in your favor.”

“I know,” Credence says. He squares his shoulders and opens his eyes. “I’m ready. Open it.”

The chest creaks open and for a moment there’s nothing.

Then…

Then Percival steps out of the suitcase.

“What…?” Credence murmurs.

Percival wears a strange expression, and…there’s something wrong with his eyes, something very, very wrong. He reaches out to Credence and instinctively Credence reaches out too, but before he can touch…Percival begins to disintegrate. He drifts away like dust and sand and no, no, no, he’s disappearing, he can’t go—

The Obscurus whines a warning.

Credence snaps back to his senses. “Riddikulus,” he says, wand hand shaking but voice firm as he summons up all his will. “Riddikulus!”

And the image changes. It isn’t Percival disintegrating anymore. It’s five people, caught as if in a photograph. Percival, exasperated beyond words and drenched from a fall into a pond, with Pickett on his shoulder, holding the Niffler at arm’s length as shiny objects spill out of its pouch. Tina roaring with laughter, leaning on a tree, while a befuddled Jacob holds a double handful of long-since-missing cufflinks and Queenie, laughing, consoles a beet-red Newt.

Credence remembers this day, remembers that he was drenched too and howling with laughter as Percival shook cufflinks and buttons and pennies and all sorts of shiny bric-a-brac out of the Niffler’s pouch. It had made off with Percival’s wand and they’d given chase, and then this had happened. It’s such a good memory—a wonderful memory—and Credence laughs.

He laughs, and the image fades, the boggart banished back into the chest.

Dumbledore strolls up beside him. “Well done,” he says. “You certainly have acquired a beautiful family, Credence.”

“The best family,” Credence says.

“Though it is quite curious,” Dumbledore muses, looking at the chest. “I had expected it to be your Obscurus.”

“Never,” Credence says. He listens to it, the protective snarl of magic, and smiles. “It’s a part of me. And I’m not scared of myself.”

 

 

**“the roof”:** _Takes place while the boys were living in Russia. Somehow never got published and I’m not sure why, but I figured I could put it here._

_I ended up reading a US Department of Agriculture Forest Service resource on maintenance and repair of outdated Forest Service buildings, which have quite the range of construction dates and apparently a frequent lack of building improvements. In the 1920s, asphalt shingles reinforced by fire-retardant asbestos came into vogue and stuck. By 1931, it would be more than reasonable for such shingles to be used here given the many conceits about magical transportation and how connected they are to the outside world. Thus, I invite you to imagine the scene of Graves and Credence figuring out how to put shingles on a house._

_The tree is a Siberian spruce, a hugely common (and generally huge) species of tree in the area of Russia where the house supposedly is._

 

“All I’m saying to you,” Credence says loudly, “is that this is a _monumentally_ stupid idea, and you’re going to regret it later.”

“I’m already halfway up the ladder,” Graves replies. He looks at the roof of the house—it’s not that far off the ground. “If we don’t get to that branch it’ll cave in the roof. Again.”

“This is one of those times where I _wouldn’t_ complain if you used magic!”

At that, Graves glances down at Credence, who’s holding the ladder steady. “Don’t lie to yourself. You’d be telling me that ‘using your body is good for you, Percival’.”

Credence groans and bangs his forehead against the rail of the ladder. “All right—that is not—fine, you’re right, I would, but—oh, for God’s sake, _be careful_!”

Graves is on the roof already, balancing carefully, looking with a critical eye on the tree looming over the house. It’s an enormous spruce, bigger than most of the trees in the surrounding area, and it has been of least concern until a sudden snowstorm roared through last week and piled on enough snow that one of the branches started to break. The snow’s melted by now—it’s a particularly warm spring—but the branch remains, leaning precariously. “Look. It isn’t going to be hard to push that right off,” he calls down to Credence.

“You are an _idiot_.”

“I love you too.”

Credence’s muffled howl of exasperation makes Graves laugh as he navigates up to the ridge of the roof, where he can almost reach the branch. His shoes scrape on the asphalt shingles, which they’d put in just last summer after nearly getting burned to death when the wooden roof had caught fire. By nothing short of a miracle, people from the village down the mountain had come to help out. Nobody still spoke anybody else’s language, but it had been a good day anyway. And the new shingles give a lot more traction, giving Graves some confidence that he’s doing this right.

The branch is thick and prickly, scratching at Graves’ hands and arms fairly seriously. They’re scrapes he could have avoided if he’d just done this with magic, but Graves is not going to give Credence the satisfaction of the words “I told you so”. He _does_ do himself the favor of applying a swift Severing Charm to the bits of wood holding the branch tenuously in place, because magic has its place in a wizard’s life.

It takes two shoves to get the branch away from the roof. With a crash it hits the ground, and Credence cheers. Graves looks down at him over the edge of the roof. “See,” he says, rather smugly, “I didn’t fall.”

“Shut up and get off the roof,” Credence says, laughing.

 

 

**“the date”:** _Takes place during “until the day’s end.” Look, I needed fluff…but I couldn’t finish it in time for it to make it into the main story. So here you go!_

_Cheongsam/qipao: chosen by the Republic of China as a national dress in 1929. Western perceptions of the dress as something worn by exotic seductresses (excuse me while I find a bottle of Listerine, I need to wash my mouth out just typing that phrase) were and are incorrect. In the first half of the twentieth century, Chinese women embraced the style as symbolic of women’s liberation and intellectual independence._

_Originally, the qipao was a two-piece outfit. Loose cropped pants would combine with a three-quarter-sleeve jacket with the same high collar seen in qipao today. Over time, though, it became more form-fitting and evolved into the familiar dress we see now. In 1932, Ya’s floor-length dress would not look remotely out of place at a formal event._

_Pankou: traditional Chinese knotted button that holds the dress together._

_If you really want to learn more about this, check out this blog. It is QUITE comprehensive and really a fun read! http://www.thepankou.com/qipao-cheongsam-parts-comprehensive-guide/_

 

By the time that the taxi returns to the Chinese Embassy, Seraphina has composed herself. She really can’t afford to keep being ruffled at Graves, not now. She’s not one to admit fault in public, but she is aware that she should have put more effort into contacting Graves before they got to Paris. At the same time, Seraphina knows that she couldn’t. She was busy with other things…things that she’s promised not to think about tonight, at least for an hour or two.

She disembarks the taxi and sweeps inside. The building is as refined as every Chinese establishment abroad is; as one of the oldest and greatest wizarding nations, they certainly know how to put their best foot forward. No one looks twice at Seraphina tonight. There’s a party here tonight and, while she could hypothetically attend, she has other plans.

The lift takes Seraphina up eight floors, to the suites that occupy the top floor of the building, where important visitors from China are housed while in Paris. Right now, one of those suites belongs to a very special woman who Seraphina is happy to see.

At the end of the hall is the door to the suite. Seraphina feels a touch out of place, in her translucent dress made of crystals with its gloves and hair wrap, but no one is here to see. Feeling a bit giddy, she knocks on the door and waits.

Well—waits is being generous, when the door opens almost immediately to reveal Ya Zhou waiting on the other side. She starts to say something, stops, and stares at Seraphina.

That’s nice, because Seraphina is certainly staring at Ya.

It’s always a bit shocking when she realizes that, even when she’s wearing heels, Seraphina is shorter than Ya. Right now, dressed in a floor-length black silk cheongsam, Ya seems even taller. It hugs her figure, perfectly tailored. Patterns of golden flowers burst over the body of the dress. Smaller golden flowers run around the hem of the skirt, the short sleeves, the high collar, and the large front. The pankou holding the dress closed are gold, too, and they run all the way down the right side of the dress.

Only when Ya moves, stepping back a little to let Seraphina step into the suite, does Seraphina see that there’s a slit up the side of the cheongsam that goes up to her mid-thigh. For half a second her mouth gets very dry. Then, shaking herself, she looks up and sees that Ya’s eyes have stopped somewhere on Seraphina’s chest.

Oh.

Right.

The crystals are mostly transparent.

After a moment, Seraphina clears her throat. Ya blinks. “You look good,” she says feebly.

“You too,” Seraphina says, sure she sounds just as much like a teenage girl in love.

“We’re both a little overdressed, aren’t we?” Ya asks, recovering some of her poise as she closes the door behind Seraphina. “I mean, for an evening in…”

“Pfft,” Seraphina scoffs, settling her fur boa more firmly around herself, “I’m wearing this for me, not for the rest of the world.”

There’s a small dining room in the suite—it really is an apartment; Seraphina hasn’t been here except fifteen minutes to change from her Assembly attire into this dress before running out again. It’s been a busy night.

Seraphina takes the seat across from Ya at the small table. With a flick of her wand, Ya sets the wine to pouring itself. “The food will serve itself,” she says, making herself comfortable and watching Seraphina with practically luminous eyes. “We don’t need to worry.”

“You really wanted it to be just us, didn’t you,” Seraphina says.

“Yes,” Ya says. “We haven’t really had much time, just the two of us, lately.”

With a smile, Seraphina stands up again. She ignores the wine and circles the table to stand beside Ya. “Then let’s make up for that,” she says.

She leans in and finds arms around her shoulders almost immediately, drawing her down into a kiss. Seraphina practically melts. She kisses back slowly, enjoying their brief moment of peace.

By the time they get around to eating, the food is cold enough that no amount of heating charms can fix it.

Neither of them care at all.

 

 

_“until the day’s end” was originally written from Credence’s point of view, and I did want to showcase this plot point: yes, Credence could sense other Obscurials. In fact, he could sense all kinds of magic—as this passage from the fateful dinner party shows._

 

“As Credence carries Young Theseus into the dining room, he sees Percival and Queenie setting the table, moving around each other as they send dishes floating from kitchen to dining room. Credence closes his eyes briefly, enjoying the magic. Queenie’s is honey and flowers, gentle and kind as spring sun; Percival’s is an oncoming storm, ozone and petrichor, raw power even as he performs kitchen magic.

Credence doesn’t know why he can do this, feel other people’s magic. He doubts that anyone normal can do it. All his research says no, that this ability to so intimately know the characteristics of someone else’s magic is unprecedented. He never mentions it aloud to anyone, though he’s though about raising the subject with Percival. It feels private, knowing these things about his friends.

Tina’s magic is stone walls and steel bars, immovable and determined. Newt’s is cut grass and firework smoke and wind in the face, wild and free. Theseus—his is new to Credence, and oddly enough he likes it, the Hippogriff feathers and obsidian. And Young Theseus’ magic is unformed, pale and shining, hanging in a cloud around him.

Even Jacob, strangely, has a sense of magic around him. It might be proximity to so much magic or something deeper. There is real power even in No-Majs, and sometimes Credence can only think of it as some kind of divine spark. Either way, Jacob is the roaring heat of a fire, creative and warming. He makes Credence feel safe just by being in the same room.”

_As for Dumbledore’s magic:_ “His magic shifts through the room, visions of lead turning into gold and the surface of a mirror.”

 

 

** THE ORIGINAL FIRST TIME SCENE OH THE CRINGE THE CRINGE THE CRINGE **

** (Rated M for mature.) **

 

They spend an entire day in Reno, Nevada. It’s an unspoken assumption they all share, that this is their last day of peace. Tina finds a newspaper and, with an unsurprised air, reads off the headline to them: “Grindelwald attacks in Salt Lake City,” she says. She sighs and hands the paper to the Demiguise, which takes it and runs away with it. “He’s on us. He _knows_.”

“He’s trying to scare us,” Graves says with certainty. “He wants us afraid. He wants us to make mistakes, do things we shouldn’t do.”

Jacob, who’s furiously reading one of Newt’s unfinished tracts on the Nundu, looks up. “Well, we’ve been doing those all along,” he says. “Looks like he’ll have to try something else.”

The day is a day of respite. They’ll get on a train tomorrow, heading for San Francisco. There, they’ll bury the Labbu eggs. They’ll get on a boat with Newt’s friend and sail away.

Or they’ll all die.

Either way.

It’s a slow, sleepy day. Graves and Credence brush down the Graphorns. Jacob continues to read “The Murder of Roger Ackroyd” to them. Newt regales them with the story of an encounter with a gargantuan shark in the Arctic. Queenie tries to teach the hapless Newt to dance, and ends up getting Credence to dance with her instead. Tina reads her No-Maj novel while she sits next to Graves with her head on his shoulder. There’s nothing frenetic about any of it. They’ve all accepted that this is the end. One way or another, this part of their journey is coming to a close.

In pairs, as the night sets in, they disappear to their own devices. Tina and Newt say their good-nights and go up the ladder to the hotel room. Queenie and Jacob retreat to their room. Last of all, Graves and Credence to theirs.

There’s one candle; Credence lights it with a thoughtless flick of his fingers. “So,” he says quietly, sitting down, “this is it, then.”

“Yes,” Graves says, sitting down facing him.

“Thanks for being honest, at least,” Credence says.

Graves half-smiles. “I promised you once that I’d never lie to you about anything.”

“You really haven’t,” Credence says thoughtfully. “So…since this is it…”

“Whatever you want,” Graves says, leaning back against the wall.

“Why did you find me in the first place?” Credence asks.

Graves thinks about that. “I don’t know,” he says honestly. “I wish I did. I’m glad I found you, but…I don’t know.”

Credence nods. “All right,” he says. He slides forward a bit, oddly hesitant. “When did you decide I was worth saving?”

“You’ll laugh,” Graves warns. Credence just raises his eyebrows expectantly. “I knew from the second I saw you that you were worth saving.”

That does get a laugh out of Credence. “I should have known you’d say that.” He’s closer again, within touching distance. “All right. Have you figured out yet when you went and fell in love with me?”

“Still working on that one, I’m afraid.”

And then Credence moves again, and _Nimue save him_ Graves did not expect this at all because Credence is leaning against him, hands braced against the wall on either side of Graves, somewhere between scared and wanting. “Do you…” Credence’s voice seems to fail him.

Graves knows where that sentence is going. He may not have had serious relationships, but he’s no stranger to things like this. “Yes,” he says honestly.

Credence’s eyes light up, not white, but from that brilliant smile. He lets Graves pull him forward into a badly-angled kiss that quickly rights itself. Graves doesn’t know how it goes, after that, because it’s all just touch. Credence has no idea where to put his hands and seems to be lost with too many limbs too close together, and just as if this is a lesson in magic, Graves helps him.

He’s not sure where their clothes go, but from Credence’s delighted laugh Graves is fairly sure that he got them off by magic. This almost isn’t new. Credence has seen damn near every inch of Graves’ scarred skin, and Graves has studied the planes of Credence’s body with his eyes already. They’re too familiar, always have been, and this is just an added dimension.

The candle goes out at some point. It’s easier, in the dark, for Credence to pull Graves’ hand around so that it’s resting on the back of his neck. At first, Graves is shocked, and then Credence whispers, “Just _touch_ me, I trust you,” and Graves lets himself feel every subtle curve of Credence’s neck and then his body, mapping with touch what he’d already seen with his eyes. And it’s easier, in the dark, for Graves to let Credence feel every scar and broken edge of him. Credence is tentative, until Graves repeats back to him what Credence already said. Then there’s nothing that could stop Credence from smoothing over Graves’ broken edges and finding every single scar to heal it without magic.

And at some point Graves stops thinking and just lets himself feel, for once. Credence’s heartbeat, drawing Graves along with its strong rhythm, and the way he breathes, and the way his hands shake not with fear but with desire. He loses himself in this, feeling that emptiness inside him finally filling up, because he’s _alive_ , alive and here with Credence.

They move together, certain of nothing but each other. Credence writes prayers on Graves’ skin with his hands and Graves kisses incantations into Credence’s body. It’s exactly right, even if Graves is hesitant and Credence is clumsy and they’re both broken, vivisected and thrown away by a world that wants them both dead. They fit together, halves of the same whole.

And when it’s over, they’re still closer than any two people have any right to be. Credence is still there and whole and perfectly human. And Graves thinks that if this really is his last living night, it was worth all the hell it took to get this far.

 


End file.
